The Unconnected Deaths
by Sherlock Holmes of 221B
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson have been busy for the past two weeks with a lot of cases, though, admittedly, not very challenging ones. Just when they start to relax, they have a client come to call who may prove to have a more interesting case than the others. Amber Johnson's sister seems to have committed suicide, but she doesn't believe it. She believes it to be a murder.


The Unconnected Deaths

Chapter 1

The Client

I was sitting in my chair in 221B, listening to my friend Sherlock Holmes play a smooth melody on his violin, as was usual for him. This period of time was the first of free time that the pair of us were able to share in some time. A recent flood of cases had proven busy for him and I; we'd been busy for nearly a fortnight. Client after client had come to call, and in the most ungodly hours too. At this point in time, though, we were finally free. Not a single case, as Sherlock Holmes, brilliant as he was, had undone all the tangles in all of the cases presented to him, expertly, and with precision. Familiar as I was with my friend's methods, I couldn't help but find myself impressed by them still.

Holmes had just finished a piece when he looked out the window he was standing by, noticing a girl on the sidewalk. As he set his violin down, continuing to peer intently down at her, I made my way over to the window as well. It was then that I noticed that her appearance was disheveled, her hair messy and her face streaked with tears. I recall a distinctly unnerved, yet excited feeling as I looked back at my friend. As I remember, he had a shine in his eyes, but was expertly keeping all excitement from betraying his calm, collected manner.

"Don't bother paying her too much time, Watson," my friend said, going over to his chair and sinking into it, "She is merely a client. Give her a minute or two, and I will not be surprised if we found ourselves discussing her tragic loss. The suicide of a family member can be quite painful for most people to recall to others." As I had been familiarized with my friend's methods, I could hardly call myself surprised when he claimed that the girl who stood outside on the cement below had experienced the suicide of a family member. Nonetheless, I was still curious as to how he knew. I asked, and I could see that he had been hoping I would ask.

"If it was plain suicide, she wouldn't have gone to see anyone. If it was a murder, she'd have gone to the police first. The affair is obviously still fresh in her mind, otherwise she wouldn't be crying so heavily. Therefore, it is a suicide, but she noticed something about it, something out of the ordinary. But, never mind that now. We shall hear the whole story as she knows it, for that is her coming up the steps now." Holmes said, and turned his gaze toward the door. Hardly a moment passed when we both saw the door open, and the girl from below standing before us.

"Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?" she asked, tentatively. She was a girl of about twenty, with bright blue eyes and brown hair that would definitely have been sleek and shiny, had it not been so terribly messy at that time. She had a small, lean build, and her arms were folded across her chest. I could tell that her beauty would've been striking, if not for her hair being so messy, her face red and flushed, tears matting her face, and her eyes swollen. Clearly, whatever had transpired had affected her greatly.

"That would be me." my friend said, looking the girl over, obviously so that he could know about her. "Pray sit, and inform us of the tragic loss that you have experienced." The girl did as he asked, and went over to one of our chairs, and sat down in it. I remember that she was a bit hesitant to say anything, as though she might have been thought a fool. I suspected that she was suspicious, but wary, as though she had no proof, no evidence upon which to base her theory. It did not take her long, however, to come around.

"Before I begin my story, I would please ask that you understand, it is difficult for me to talk about. I loved my sister, and the thought that she would have been that depressed and not say anything, but take her life without a word, is unbearable. So please understand if I have to stop at some point. It's a really difficult time for me." the girl said, sniffling. My friend nodded, watching her intently. "My name is Amber Johnson. I am 20 years old, I had two sisters, and both parents. The sister who I speak of, Abigail Johnson, was 16." She paused for a moment to gather herself again. "She was a lively girl, Abigail, and never had I seen a more free spirit. She was so lively, and bubbly, that I would've never thought for a moment that she was depressed. As you know, Mr. Holmes, she is dead. She committed suicide, as far as everybody knows."

"You don't quite sound as though you believe that." Holmes said, with a glint in his eye. Amber nodded.

"I don't. You see, she was found on the floor, not hanging from the noose. But she clearly died from hanging." she said, nodding her head. "My family noted that it was loose, and that she would've fallen out. It's a practical theory, so no one's questioned it. But... My sister was smart. She would never take the chance of failing. Everyone knows what would have happened to her if she failed. I think she was forced. I think she was murdered." Holmes' attention peaked, and he leaned forward. There was no doubt of his eagerness.

"You certainly seem to be a sharp young lady." he said, very obviously interested. He then sat back, his mind clearly made up. "I shall take your case. I will come out to your home later to see what I can make of this." Amber smiled gratefully. It could not have been more obvious that this meant the world to her.

"Thank you, sir. I shall see you soon." she said, and stood. "I'll keep everyone out of the room, so that everything is untouched when you get there." She walked toward the door after this statement, and left. I turned to my friend.

"What do you make of it, Holmes?" I asked him, wondering what to make of the girl's story.

"I think that we've got a serial killer on our hands. There was another 'suicide' just like the one she described. As well, there has been a murder, where the victim had clearly been forcibly hung." he said, hardly able to keep the excitement from his voice. "You will come with me later, of course?" he asked. In response, I nodded. "Excellent! Do relax, Watson, would you? I'm sure that it might be risky, and we may find ourselves endangered should we not take care in this." he said. I nodded, and sat back in my chair comfortably.

I had not done much by the time when we left. My friend, however, sat in his chair, pondering the murders. Finally, he stood, and we left for the lady's house with the address she had left for us.


End file.
